The 52nd Hunger Games an SYOT
by ExeliaWave
Summary: Submit your own tribute and sponsor them along the way! Fill out the Submission form on my profile and PM your tribute to me. I accept PM's only. {On hold, sorry :( }
1. Chapter 1

**So, this is my first SYOT. You all know what that means. Please submit your own tribute! Also, please fill out this form.**

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**Due to the content guidelines, I am not allowed to put the submission sheet on this story. The form is now on my profile. Please PM it to me after.**

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**Alrighty, then. Please fill that out and PM it to me.. Also, I will begin this story using Sten. He has nothing to do with the story. He lives in District 11, but has nothing to do with the tributes. He's just going to introduce the plot, and vanish! So, anyone considering doing 11 doesn't have to accommodate to Sten.**

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**Also, the more you review, the more your tribute gains favor! And every review is worth three points. Every 15 points, you get to send your tribute a gift of your choice. Yes, I know that's a lot, but tributes aren't supposed to get so many gifts! Now, on with the story.**

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I love the orchard.

It's kind of strange, I know. I'm a seventeen year-old boy, with bulky muscles, and I work in the orchard, picking apples. But I grew up here, and I can't imagine working anywhere else. All my older brothers plow the fields for planting, harvest the wheat, but I love to climb the apple trees and breathe the fresh air, so high in the sky. I can escape anything here.

I exhale. No, I can't escape everything. Especially not the Reaping. I'm filled with dread. This is Tori's first Reaping. She's twelve now. I wouldn't be able to bear it if my baby sister got Reaped.

I clear this thought from my mind. Of course she won't. She's never taken out tesserae, so she'll be fine.

I hope.

No. Don't think like that.

* * *

I trudge home to get ready for the Reaping. I sigh.

I'm in that glass ball six times. That's nothing compared to some of the other kids in District 11, but I'm still terrified.

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I'm holding my breath. Please, don't let it be Tori. Please.

"And this year's lucky girl will be..."

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**Tori is not reaped. I mean, of course not. Neither is Sten. Please review! Remember, I accept PM's ONLY. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Here is the tribute list so far.**

****District 1

M:

F:

District 2

M: Cody Gables

F:

District 3

M: Reserved

F:

District 4

M: Jacob Mason

F:

District 5

M:

F: Katri Lockheart

District 6

M:

F: Quinn Healey

District 7

M:

F:

District 8

M: Thatch Peddlar

F: Polly _ (I'm sorry, your review was lost. Please PM your tribute to me again)

District 9

M:

F:

District 10

M:

F:

District 11

M:

F: Cheyene Stone

District 12

M:

F:

**Please submit a tribute. Any people who have already submitted (through review) has been lost, since I had to take down my story and restart. Please PM it to me, not through review.**

**Thank you!**


	3. Chapter 3

**New and improved Tribute list!**

District 1

M: William Sechler

F: Reserved

District 2

M: Cody Gables

F: Cornelia Rice

District 3

M: Reserved (Tigerlils, would you mind hurrying up? No offense)

F:

District 4

M: Jacob Mason

F: Daciana Angelique Meill

District 5

M: Titus Galloway

F: Katri Lockheart_ (Whoever did her will have to PM her to me again. Your review was lost. If you do not, I will have to a) take her off the list or b) re-create her character)_

District 6

M: Slate Grey

F: Quinn Healey _(You too)_

District 7

M:

F: Hero Sycamore

District 8

M: Thatch Peddlar

F: Polly Esther Horan

District 9

M: Faolán Benedict Miell

F:

District 10

M:

F:

District 11

M:

F: Cheyene Stone_ (And you)_

District 12

M:

F:

**Please submit a tribute. Any people who have already submitted (through review) has been lost, since I had to take down my story and restart. Please PM it to me, not through review.**

**Also, please consider doing districts 10, 11, 12, and especially the District 1 female. Thanks!**

**IMPORTANT!**

_**WHOEVER CREATED KATRI LOCKHEART, QUINN HEALEY, OR CHEYENNE STONE WILL HAVE TO SUBMIT THEIR TRIBUTE AGAIN, IN PM. ANYONE ELSE WHO SUBMITTED A TRIBUTE THROUGH REVIEW WILL ALSO HAVE TO.**_

**I will be picking a handful of tributes for the Reaping, couple for parade, several for training, etc.**

**Oh yeah. I will not be going in order for the Reapings. I'll choose a handful for each.**

**Now, on with the story!**

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**_Jacob Mason, District 4, age 15_  
**

Here, gliding through the velvety, glimmering sea, I can feel safe. Safe from the horrible Reaping, safe from my past. Nothing can harm me here.

Suddenly, a bucketful of salty seawater comes tumbling down my head. Spluttering, I rise from the water, cupping the foaming sea in my large, calloused hands, ready to fling it at whoever was crazy enough to splash me.

I stop in my tracks. It's Maya, shy, sweet Maya. She's giggling, her caramel-brown skin almost luminous in the sun, her tapered fingers covering her mouth. She's clutching a little tin bucket, clearly her weapon of assault.

I grin. Maya rarely does this. She's always so shy.

I tackle her, and she squeals. I drag her into the water by the waist, soaking her short brown curls. I lug her farther into the waves, both of us laughing and screaming. She struggles to escape, tugging at my arms, kicking hard. But after the training Father had forced me into, I'm strong and quick, and Maya has absolutely no chance.

I dunk her under, and she squeaks in protest, bubbles trailing from her lips. She wraps her arms around my neck and holds on tight. I push us out farther, where no one can see us, and run my fingers through her hair. My free hand I place on the small of her back, pulling her toward me, ever closer.

Maya tips her heart-shaped face up toward mine, smiling ever-so-slightly. She tightens her grip around my neck, pulling herself higher. I cup her chin with one hand, my other still positioned on her back.

Then, gently, I press my lips against hers.

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**So, whaddya think? It's a little short, but I don't have much experience with romance, and stuff. But the Reaping comes next, and I hope you enjoy it.**

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After Maya and I collapsed on the beach, dripping wet, laughing til our throats burned, Nigel sauntered up with his hands on his hips, a grin playing with the edges of his lips.

"You guys are in so much trouble," He says with fake anger, "Rolling out in the sea!"

The minute Nigel romped up, Maya retreated to her usual, shy self. Quiet as she is, she didn't have many friends, other than me. She tolerates Nigel, but I think that he scares her.

"Oh, come on," I grin slyly, "Like you haven't done worse."

He grins back, "Ha! Anyways, Sabrina says that you have to get ready for the Reaping."

I sigh, getting to my feet, pulling Maya up with my. She looks up at me shyly, smiling slightly. I grin, and lean down to kiss her again. Finally, Nigel scolds us, breaking us apart, and yells at me to "go tell your Mommy Sabrina what you've been up to."

Maya smiles, pecks my cheek, and starts toward her house, a little cabin by the dock. Nigel and I start for my place.

"Man," He says, "I miss those days when we broke hearts together, side by side," He sighs, "Now it's only me."

I snort, "You wish!"

Then we broke down into a laughing fit.

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I got ready pretty quickly. Ran a brush through my hair, pulled on black pants instead of shorts.

There. Done.

Sighing, I trudge through District 4.

Joining Nigel, I wave to Maya, who's across from where we are.

I fall asleep once, while the escort, Soki something, blabbed on and on. This earned me a jab between the shoulder blades from Nigel.

I gave a sharp yelp, which caused a glare from Soki.

Finally, _finally, _she draws the girl's name. This girl named Daciana Angelique Meill. I've never even heard of her before.

"And this year's lucky boy is..." Soki squealed.

I wait.

And wait.

_Why_ won't she say it yet?

"Jacob Mason!"

I wish she hadn't said it.

Everyone's jeering and laughing, pointing at the freak with long black hair, the weird kid who dropped out of the Academy just because his sister died in the Games.

No one's going to volunteer for me.

Nigel can't. His family depends on him.

No one else will; they all hate me.

I glance over at Maya. She's sobbing, tears streaking down her cheeks. One hand is reached out to me, the other covering her mouth.

I walk shakily up to the stage.

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**So, how was that?**

**Please tell me.**

**Advice is welcome!**

**Who should I do next?**

**Review to tell me!**

_**And remember, every 5 reviews, you get to send your tribute a gift of your choice. Unless it's a weapon, which will cost 8 reviews. **_

**Thanks for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

**New and improved Tribute list!**

**District 1**

M: William Sechler

F: Reserved

**District 2**

M: Cody Gables

F: Cornelia Rice

**District 3**

M: Spark Finnes

F: Evelyn "Eve" Lotus

**District 4**

M: Jacob Mason

F: Daciana Angelique Meill

**District 5**

M: Titus Galloway

F: Katri Lockheart

**District 6**

M: Slate Grey

F: Quinn Healey

**District 7**

M:

F: Hero Sycamore

**District 8**

M: Thatch Peddlar

F: Polly Esther Horan

**District 9**

M: Faolán Benedict Miell

F: Brinere (pronounced brin-ear) Thralse

**District 10**

M:

F:

**District 11**

M:

F: Cheyene Stone_(Whoever did her will have to PM her to me again. Your review was lost. If you do not, I will have to a) take her off the list or b) re-create her character)_

**District 12**

M: Zyrus Blake-Hatchet

F:

**Sorry, I don't have a chapter for you today. The SYOT is closed. The spaces left will be used for bloodbath tributes. If you want, you can submit a name and appearance and backgrounder for these tributes, but ****_they will die in the bloodbath._**

**Thanks!**


	5. Chapter 5

**New and improved Tribute list!**

**District 1**

M: William Sechler

F: Talia Elizabeth O'Malley

**District 2**

M: Cody Gables

F: Cornelia Rice

**District 3**

M: Spark Finnes

F: Evelyn "Eve" Lotus

**District 4**

M: Jacob Mason

F: Daciana Angelique Meill

**District 5**

M: Titus Galloway

F: Katri Lockheart

**District 6**

M: Slate Grey

F: Quinn Healey

**District 7**

M: Zyrus Blake-Hatchet

F: Hero Sycamore

**District 8**

M: Thatch Peddlar

F: Polly Esther Horan

**District 9**

M: Faolán Benedict Miell

F: Brinere (pronounced brin-ear) Thralse

**District 10**

M: Gini Wrax _(Bloodbath)_

F: Sonia Myzell _(Bloodbath)_

**District 11**

M: Oxi Noi _(Bloodbath_)

F: Cheyene Stone (_Bloodbath)_

**District 12**

M: Cranston Zang _(Bloodbath)_

F: Minx Rathborne (_Bloodbath)_

**And here is the next Reaping! Big Round of applause for Faolán Benedict Miell, of District 9.**

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**_Faolán Benedict Miell, District 9, age 17_**

I don't know how and I don't know why. We're really not that poor, and I've only ever taken out tessera once. That was when I was thirteen and some disease wiped out our farm. We didn't have any food for weeks. Finally I just went and signed up for it. But after that... not a single extra slip with my name on it. Like I said, I don't know how, yet it happened anyways.

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"Faolán Benedict Miell!" Piracle had screeched into the microphone in her freaky Capitol accent, bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement.

Petrified, I listened to a gasp had ripple through the crowd, though I heard some girls giggle girlishly.

"He's so hot!" One squealed, "I bet he'll get a million sponsors!"

"Yeah, if he weren't a total social reject," Another said sulkily.

The first rolled her eyes, "You're just jealous he turned you down."

"Humph! I still can't believe he'd rather hang out with that dirty little girl who works day and night in that market. What was her name? Eggmanda or something?"

The other giggled, "Xanda."

"Whatever."

It was at that moment I unfroze and swiveled my head to search out Xanda. I spotted her in the midst of those million girls, eyes wide in shock, her scrawny frame so small in the crowd.

Someone shoved me from behind and I turned to look, but whoever did was swallowed by the crowd and I had no choice but to make my way up to the stage. When I had reached the stage, Piracle reached down one hand, each finger attached to a pointy fake nail, to haul me up with surprising strength.

"Welcome, welcome!" She announced, not even bothering to ask for volunteers, "Shake hands with Brinere, please!"

Brinere. I didn't even remember hearing her Reaped. All I know is that she was shaking so bad that a peacekeeper pushed her onstage, causing an eruption of laughter. Now she's white as a ghost, her knees quaking. Poor girl. Do I know her? No, it doesn't seem so. I certainly hope not. I don't want to have to kill her. In fact, I don't want to have to kill anybody.

Now that I think of it, I don't think I'll be able to kill anybody. I just don't have the guts.

* * *

After that Brinere and I were shoved into the Justice Building to await visitors, which is where I am now, reflecting over my Reaping. Everything in here has gold trim. Red velvet couch with gold trim, stuffed red velvet cushions with gold trim, even a fancy vase of flowers, each one lined with gold. These people are crazy. What kind of person would spend their money on gold trim instead of food?

The Capitol, apparently, because everything in here has a gold label pronouncing, _Specially designed by the Capitol!_

Yeah, bet they weren't the ones slaving to actually make it, huh?

That's when my first visitor stumbles in, while I was bitterly examining the furniture. It's Xanda, her big grey eyes wide with worry. She doesn't have to say a word for me to understand what she's saying. One glance at her and I know she's worried, no, _terrified_ for me.

"Xanda," I whisper, "It's okay."

She narrows her eyes at me, "No, it's not! You're being sent into an arena to fight to the death against twenty-three other kids! Who are you kidding? If you think I'm going to sit around telling myself it's okay, you can think again!" She rants.

I have to admit, I almost laugh. I've never seen Xanda this agitated before. She's usually much more calm and resolved.

She knows me too well, though, and notices my semi-hysterical half-hidden chuckle.

"You're my_ best friend_!" She cries, "This is your_ life_ we're talking about, how dare you laugh!"

And I can't help it, I burst out laughing. She stares at me in dismay, her jaw dropping open at my outburst. Then, as if getting over her shock, she leans over and slaps me across the face.

"Ow!" I yelp, "What was that for?"

She seems at a loss for words, "You... that... laughing... I..."

This brings on another volley of laughter. I cackle so hard I double over, clutching my belly as I chortle. Then, as if she can't help it, she joins in, guffawing as if she'll explode if she doesn't. We're still laughing as if our lives depends on it when about a dozen peacekeepers charge in to drag her out. She grins cockily as she disappears through the doors, shouting "Don't worry, I'll take care of Flounder!" just before the doors close on her.

Flounder. Oh god, how am I supposed to leave her behind? My little puppy.

Another thought occurs. I've never been alone in the woods, or even the fields, without her before. She's always bounding along beside me, barking energetically. What if the arena is a forest, or a giant farm? I'll never make it out. I'm terrified of the woods without her.

And I never even got to say goodbye.

My next visitor turns out to be my mother, her graying brown hair twisted up in a bun. She's fiddling with her thumbs nervously and shuffling her feet. She refuses to meet my gaze with those ocean blue eyes, her worn, calloused hands constantly fidgeting. I can tell by the way she's glaring at the floor, drooping her head, that she's feeling guilty, and has something to tell me.

"Mom?" I whisper.

She mumbles something illegible, picking at the frayed ends of her blouse. She still keeps her eyes glued to the ground, shoulders hunched over.

"Mom!" I snap, agitated. I've been sentenced to death! And she can't even spit out what she wants to. "Spit it out!" I cry, voicing my thoughts.

"You have a sister," She blurts out, "She lives in Four. With your father."

I stare at her incredulously, my jaw agape. _This_ is how she's saying goodbye? Telling me a lie?

"Yeah, and my grandfather is a dancing penguin. Who's Dad? A singing halibut?" I ask sarcastically, "Oh wait, I forgot, he was killed by a machine malfunction. Or was he?"

"It's true!" Mom cries desperately, "Your father picked up with your sister and moved to District Four."

I snort.

"Daciana," Mom whispers, shoulders drooping, "My little Daciana. That's her name," She tells me, "Daciana Angelique Miell. Wolf Angel. My fierce, loyal, angel."

I glare at her in disbelief. My mom has no idea how to lie, so she must be telling the truth, right?

"We divorced when you were one. You're twins. When your father took Daci with him, I was heartbroken," She explains, "Here. Here's her picture."

She yanks an old photo out of her pocket and presents it to me. It shows a little girl, with grain colored hair, and Mom's ocean blue eyes. She's smiling mischievously. And I can see the resemblance. She has that same smile as me, as Mom. That slight tilt to her head, something that Mom says I do often. She's covered in dirt and grime, and has a fierce, determined look in her eyes. She looks like Dad. That old photo Mom keeps of him. The hair color, the big doe eyes, the tangled hair. I can't believe it. We're twins. Fraternal, obviously, but twins nevertheless.

"Now do you believe me?" Mom inquires hesitantly.

I nod, speechless.

The Peacekeepers knock loudly, ordering us that time's up. Mom engulfs me in a hug, and I halfheartedly hug her back. She makes me promise to win. And I do. And then she leaves.

I get no more visitors.

* * *

"You're pretty hot" is the first thing my mentor, Digona, says to me.

I blink. "Uh, thanks?"

"I'm serious. Those mysterious brown eyes, mischievous grin, _dimples_, and especially that hair. If we play it just right, you could get a_ lot_ of sponsors."

"Uh, thanks?" is my response.

She sighs.

And then it's dinner time. The massive layout of food covers that large table. Brinere, still shaking, momentarily stops to gape at the piles of food. She stares as if it was the first meal she'd seen in days. Which, judging from her scrawny (but still really pretty) figure, is probably true.

"I've died and gone to heaven," She says tremulously. Then she glances at me, smiles gently, and rushes over and starts cramming food into her mouth with her hands. Digona sniffs, and so does Piracle. Which is kind of creepy, what with the millions of glittering gems carved into her skin. I take a step away from her, before joining Brinere at the table and stuffing my face.

* * *

I settle down, stuffed full, on the couch next to Brinere, ready to watch the Recap of the Reapings. She's visibly relaxing, specially after our enormous meal. She even smiles at Piracle, something I would never do. It's probably because Piracle gave her an extra roll, and she's decided that Piracle "can't be all that bad."

I'm serious. She even told me that. She is way too nice.

I watch the recap start. The girl Reaped is really pretty, what with the honey blonde hair and caring, even motherly gaze. She passes a little baby girl in her arms to someone beside her, smiles nervously, and walks up to the stage.

The District One male is as buff and tough as always, shoving aside others in order to volunteer. His shirt is torn, which is intimidating. What fights has he gotten into?

Two is as always. Girl, fierce and determined, with dark skin and dark hair. Big, built guy shouldering to volunteer.

Three is different this year. The male is quiet, timid, pale, and just plain wimpy. When he shook hands with the girl, he had this look of total pain on his face. Then he jerks his hand away and wipes it on his trousers. But he's not the one who I'm worried about.

It's the girl that scares me. She has wavy black hair and a slight figure. Her nose is small and delicate, and her cheekbones high. She looks so young, like a little girl, and yet she's terrifying me. Her dark eyes are steely and cold, her lips thin and pressed in a tight line. Her stance is determined, rigid, and she has this bitter air. This "don't mess with me" aura. I involuntarily lean away from the television.

And then I see Four. This strangely familiar girl elbows her way through at full throttle, thundering past all the other eager volunteers. She clambers onto the stage, satisfied. She has hair the same shade as grain, and ocean blue eyes. She wears a cocky, mischievous grin, and a taunting tilt to her head, daring anyone to challenge her.

Why does she seem so familiar?

The escort is giddy, bouncing up and down. "What's your name, sweetie?"

The girl smiles confidently. "Daciana Angelique Miell."

Everyone in the room swivels their head to look at me, obviously noticing the same last name.

Me? I'm too busy gaping at the television, jaw dropped in shock. I'm pretty sure my eyes are the size of saucers.

"Faolán?" Brinere ask hesitantly.

"Tha-that's my sister," I stammer. "That's my sister."

That's her. Wolf Angel. Staring cockily right at me.

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**Author's Note: So, how as that? I'm sorry it's been so long, but I had a huge writer's block. And I couldn't figure out to start Faolán's story. I hope I portrayed him properly.**

**Anyways, I wanted to thank WolfAngel62 for creating such an amazing plot. Daciana Angelique, as she told me, means Wolf Angel.**

**Also, I wanted to thank EVERYONE who reviewed! Thank you SO MUCH! I wish I could hug you all, but that doesn't work through a computer screen. Please, PLEASE review for this chapter. It would mean so much to me.**

**I want to thank Tigerlils, and Nrrd-Grrl-Meg for being such encouraging and supportive readers.**

**And last but not least, I want to thank my best friend, for loyally reading every chapter in every story I wrote, and reviewing for each and every chapter, if a bit randomly.**

**But I still want to thank each and every one of you who have submitted a tribute, reviewed a chapter, Favorited/Followed my SYOT, or even just read it. THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH!**

**Also, if you want to know what Faolán looks like, just google up Atticus Mitchell.**

**Buh-bye.**

** ~ Arielle**


	6. Chapter 6

**Here's your next chapter...**

**Introducing... Katri Lockheart!**

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**_Katri Lockheart, District 5, age 15_**

Life is short.

I should know; I almost died. It was quite a while ago, so long I don't even remember how old I was.

All I know is that I should be dead.

I was small. But then, I've always been small. Small enough to be enclosed in _a_ _very_ _small_ _place_. It was so dark, so menacing, so terrifying to little me. And cold. Everything was so cold.

I was sobbing. Little sobs that wracked my frail body. It was terrifying, and I was sure I was going to die.

Then I heard yelling. A strong, steady voice calling my name. _Katri_, he cried, _Where_ _are_ _you_?

My big green eyes had widened in relief and I had screamed out his name. _Daddy! __Come_ _help_ _me!_

I heard scrambling and soon my father's concerned face swept into view. I cried out in relief and was just about to dash into his arms when I saw it. The flash. The crackle. The dart of blue light.

But my father didn't see and he reached out to gather me in his arms. But before his fingertips even grazed me, a pipeline beside my little prison shook with the power of the blue crackle. His eyes widened and he screamed at me to _run,_ _just_ _run_ as fast I could. I did what I was told and didn't look back.

At least until I heard them. The most horrific sound ever to reach my ears. The screams.

I whirled around, my green eyes wide in terror. The flashing blue light zipped across the room to come in contact with my father. I watched in horror as the jagged strike of light hit him, and watched as he jerked and flopped like a fish out of water. A horrific scream tore from his lips and I screamed along with him. What was it doing? Why would it hurt my Daddy?

His head lolled to the side just as the flash of blue exited his body. It darted from place to place, traveling faster than anything I'd ever seen before. It was fascinating and horrifying. It seemed undamaged from its ordeal with my father, but my father wasn't. His graying hair was smoking, and his wounds were like nothing I'd ever seen before. His eyes, green like mine, were glassy, milky, unseeing. _Dead_.

I screamed, a shrill sound, and swayed on my feet, my head woozy. But even in that condition, I had still managed to run. Run away from the most nerve-wracking thing I'd ever witnessed. Run away like the coward I was.

Ever since then, I've been terrified of lightning, claustrophobic, and recieved an irrational fear of wild animals.

And now as I dangle precariously from the rough limb of my favorite poplar tree on three fingers, I realize that I face death once again. And it's not pretty. My wide green eyes glare at the dusty patches of dirt popping up amongst the bits of lush green grass. I grit my teeth, determined not to fall, but my aching fingers threaten to let go. I pant in terror, gasps of exhaustion and fear. This can_not _be happening.

Whoever's in charge up there is cruel. First they terrify me until I'm reduced to a quivering wreck. Then they make me watch my father get electrocuted. _Now _they hang me from a tree like a Christmas ornament._  
_

I should know by now; life isn't fair. At least not to me.

My fingers are blistered now, from gripping the poplar, who looks like it's eyeing me in exasperation. Like it's irritated that I'm dangling on the brink of death. From its branches. Its eyes glare at me, popping up against the creamy white bark. I scrunch up my nose, determined to clamber back up there, or at least not break my neck. I don't really feel like falling into a broken heap at the base of my favorite tree. Actually, come to think of it, I really don't think that this is my favorite tree anymore.

Slowly, I inch my fingers farther up the branch. Carefully, I reach up my other hand for the limb. At the same time, I lift my foot to the thick trunk and cling to the rough bark with my sneaker. Successful, I inch up the trunk, shuffling up. My red hair gets tangled in the green and yellow leaves. Annoyed, I reach up with my left hand to tear my hair away. When it remains stubbornly attached, I growl in frustration and yank hard. The harsh movement jerks my other hand away from the poplar, and for a millisecond I'm hanging from my feet from the tree. That obviously doesn't work, and I lose my grip, tumbling off the poplar, my arms and legs scraping the bark of the tree.

The wind is knocked out of my lungs when I hit the ground, my scratched limbs red and bleeding. I let my head fall back with a thud, too exhausted to keep it lifted. My whole body is sore, and I can barely move. Actually, I don't think I _can_ move. Ugh. For a few painful minutes I just lie there, my limbs burning (not literally, but it certainly feels like it), my back aching. My eyelids flutter close and I let the pain swallow me in darkness. This must be end, right? At least I won't have to worry about the Reapings anymore. At least...

"Hey! Katri! What ch'ya doing?"

I blink in surprise. Who can it be? There's not many people who know this spot. This spot where my ex-favourite tree grows. Hmm...

"Hey! Katri! Remember me? Ya know, your extremely handsome best friend that half the school drools over?"

Griffin. Of course it's him. Griffin, Mr. King of Popularity.

Soon his face looms over me, his swath of dark hair hanging over my eyes.

He looks concerned. "Hey, are you alright?" His chocolate brown eyes furrow with worry, "Hell, of course you're not alright. I mean, look at you!"

I mumble something eligible about favourite trees, my mind off somewhere in space.

Griffin is one of my best friends. Even though he's Mr. Popularity and I'm a social outcast. But away from his adoring crowds and tough, cocky attitude, he's sweet and caring, loyal to those he loves. Not to mention his good humour.

And then there's Eva. Eva, who's testy and cold. Eva, with her stony mask that covers her true, wounded self. Eva, who, on her best days, can manage to smile and avoid making her snarky comments. But, unfortunately, those days are rare, and not many people can say they ever witnessed one of those days. Most times, they just stay away. Because, with her testy attitude and her reluctance to talk, and her tacky community home, she's hard to get close to, and harder to love.

But Griffin and I manage. After all, what are best friends for?

"Katri?" Griffin's concerned voice breaks into my thoughts.

My eyelids snap open and I look up at him. "Helloo."

He sighs, looking annoyed. "You scared the hell out of me! Now get up, your Mom's calling for you. Plus, you should probably go wash up your wounds."

* * *

By the time I stagger into our little house, Mom, Rayne, and Spark are already dressed up for the despicable Reaping. Spark notices me first, from her perch at the stained kitchen table. Her little mouth drops into an 'o' and her innocent green eyes widen at my appearance.

"Katri! What happened to you?"

This, of course, draws the gazes my mother and brother. My mother gasps and rushes off to find our dwindling supply of medicine. Rayne, my brother, narrows his eyes, and his overprotective side takes over.

"Katri! What did you do?!" He scolds, "You should know better than to do... Um... Whatever you did!" Then he continues his lecture that he gives me every time I do something he disapproves of.

Sighing, I lean back into the back of my chair to wait till his lecture is over. See, even though Rayne is younger than me by several years - not to mention is much shorter and skinnier than most the kids his age - he's the 'man' of the house, in all his scrawny glory.

Spark watches me, her sweet green eyes capturing every detail. Her flaming red hair, much like mine, is tamed into two long braids. In fact, with her big, emerald green eyes, she looks so much like me, it's uncanny. She's wearing my old dress, the fabric draping over her little limbs. She's so much smaller than the regular children her age, and, unfortunately, a bit slow-witted too. But she's so sweet and caring, and that enormous heart of her's always has love to give. Even though most of the children her age avoid her, she's still kind to everyone.

My mother enters, her red-brown hair twisted up in a bun, and her arms cradling the last of our bandages. She addresses the wounds quietly, washing them gently with a dishcloth, applying medicine only where essentially needed. My mother is a sweet, quiet lady, but at times she can pull up that temper of her's, which I, as they all say, inherited.

My brother watches from the sidelines, arms crossed over his chest. His brown hair, which I'm sure has already undergone several attempts to tame it, is tousled. He's watching me disapprovingly, but the worried look in his eyes tells me that he's not really angry at me. He opens his mouth to scold me again, like something my father would have done. A quick "I'm fine, _Mom_" shuts him up. He's really responsible for his young age, with his loyal, almost overbearing protective instincts.

My sister is the loving one, my brother the responsible one. I'm the spontaneous, daring one. I'm loyal to those I love, but my temper is quick and I'm never one to hide my opinion.

When my mother finishes addressing my wounds, she sends me up to change for the Reaping. Sighing, I trudge upstairs to slip on my outfit, since it's obvious too late for a shower. My Reaping dress lies on my bed, freshly washed and ready to go. It's a bit worn, and the light blue is slightly faded, but it works. We're not rich enough for fancy new outfits every year; in fact, we barely scrape by. We earn just enough to put food on the table; nothing more, nothing less.

The light-weight, periwinkle fabric slides over my skin. It's a bit too tight, but it works. I run a brush through my long red hair, and tug on my frayed boots. Just as I finish, I hear Rayne charge up the stairs, and barges straight into my room. He takes one look at me and says, "Good, you're done. Now hurry up before we get whipped for being late!"

* * *

I swing by Eva's community home as Rayne drags us down to the square. She's slouching grumpily by her house, her blonde hair pulled messily back in a ponytail, her green eyes annoyed. When she sees me, she sighs in exasperation. With a role of her eyes and a punch to my arm, she stalks long, loping strides by my side.

We take our place with the other fifteen year olds. Griffin is there, on the opposite side, smirking with his other friends. But he turns away and catches my eye, a worried look on his face. Eva glares at the ground, snapping at some girl who steps on her foot, grouchier than usual, and with good reason.

Our district escort, a lime green, perky little man who's constantly bouncing on the balls of his feet, prattles on about the Hunger Games, about the Capitol, about this and that and whatever. He finally reaches the actual Reaping part of the Reaping, and sticks his tiny little hand into that giant glass bowl. He rummages around, standing on the tips of his pointed shoes.

And I'm annoyed. Gosh, why won't he just _hurry up?_ Does it really take that long to pick a single slip paper? Sheesh.

He rifles around some more, before finally - _finally!_ - selecting a name. He clears his throat, beams at the gathered crowd, and shakes out the slip of paper.

Ugh, would he hurry up? I want to get out of here and take Rayne, Spark, and Eva for some lemonade. I'd take Griffin too, but he'd be surrounded by his other friends. I roll my eyes impatiently and cross my arms.

Our escort grins out to us, and chirps out the poor girl's name happily.

"Katri Lockheart!"

Okay, there, was it really that hard? It's just one name. Now, where is Spark? I can't wait to see her face when she sees that glass of lemonade I've spent months saving for...

Wait, why is Spark crying? And Rayne, he's as white as a ghost. I glance at Griffin and find that he's staring wide-eyed at me, not caring that all his friends see. My mother, standing in the back, has narrowed eyes threatening death. Even Eva, cold, distant Eva, has reached out and gripped my hand, her knuckles white.

A girl behind me laughs, a sharp, cruel sound. She reaches out and shoves me forward harshly. I trip over a tiny little blonde, who squeaks and backs away me. I look up and find that everyone has shied away like the plague. They're staring at me with a mixture of pity and fear. No one dares touch me.

Eva helps me up emotionlessly. Her eyes are empty, her face blank. She stares straight ahead, but I swear I saw a shimmer trekking its way down her cheek.

That's when I realize it. Why my friends and family are mourning in their own way. Why nobody meets my gaze.

It's my name. My name that's been called out from the blue lips of our escort. My name that he read out, printed neatly upon a crisp slip of white paper. Mine.

I blink. This must be a mistake. This isn't happening.

Another shove from the girl behind me and I'm walking automatically towards the stage. Each step robotic, my mind blank. By the time I climb the steps and join our escort, they've already moved on to the boys.

Some kid named Titus Galloway is called up. I vaguely remember hearing this name on the streets, that his mother ran away and tried to leave the district. She was caught and killed by the peacekeepers. A few girls in the district are always trailing him and his looks, and often there was gossip swirling about him.

Mr. Green Escort is saying my name. I blink back to reality and cock my head. Titus, his brow furrowed with something resembling worry, takes my hand and pumps it up and down for me. Then the peacekeepers usher us into the Justice Building, and the last thing I see is Eva, her lips pressed into a tight, thin line.

* * *

I sit, arms crossed, in some fancy room, awaiting visitors. I can hear the peacekeepers clomping around outside, muttering to themselves.

Then there's the pitter patter of more feet in the hall. The double doors swing open, and my family rushes in, engulfing me in their arms. I take Rayne's scolding, his lecture of how I must come home. I promise my mother I'll return safe and sound. I accept the little handmade doll my sister presses into my hand.

When they leave, their eyes are filled with worry and tears. I reassure them I'll be fine, but it's done emotionlessly. I shed not one tear. I don't return their warm embraces. My smiles don't reach my empty green eyes. When the peacekeepers lock the door behind them, I sit blankly on the couch, my mind an empty page.

Griffin comes in next. I'm surprised he managed to extract himself from his many friends. His warm brown eyes drip silent tears and his hands tremble. I smile gently for him, but I'm sure my eyes remain distant. He chokes down a sob and wraps his arms around me, snuffling softly on my shoulder. I just stand there, letting his tears drop onto my auburn hair.

"Come back," Griffin croaks, "Come back to us."

And I stand there mutely, executing the slightest of nods. His brown eyes search for mine for any sign of life, of liveliness. But he gets none, and he nods slowly, turning away, as if I'm already a lost cause. But I know he still loves me, that they all do. They just don't know what to do without me.

The doors swing closed behind him, and I settle back into plush velvet couch. A sigh escapes my lips; that's it. That's everyone. Now I don't have to worry about saying goodbye anymore.

The doors swing open once again, to my surprise. Who could it be? When I spot the gawky, green-eyed blonde, I'm sure that this must be a dream. Eva isn't some mushy, goodbye person. She's strong and determined and firm. I never thought that she'd be here. I had thought that, by now, she'd have already gone home to her mother, silently whispering her goodbyes. But she's right here, standing in front of me, her green eyes narrowed in determination.

"Katri!" She demands my attention. "You _are_ going to make it out of there. You are going to do every single thing you can to get out! I don't care how many lives you have to take, how many you have to betray, but you are going to fight your way out! I will _not_ take no for an answer! _Listen to me!"_

I snap back to attention at her harsh tone, shocked that so much emotion is injected in her voice.

"Katri," she pleads, "Come home to us. Do whatever you need to do, I don't care. I can't lose you. Your family needs you."

Shocked into silence, I nod slowly, my mouth agape. Before she can say another word, the peacekeepers charge in and drag her out by force. She catches my eye once before the doors swing closed, her gaze filled with sorrow and determination.

* * *

I found out that our escort's name is Limio. He, along with our last Victor, Heron, and Titus, drop by to load me into the automobile. The ride is short, filled with Limio's overly enthusiastic chatter. By the time we actually board the train, I feel as if my ears are about to fall off.

The train is elaborately decorated, and Limio takes obvious delight in giving us the tour. Titus is annoyingly optimistic, though I know he's hurting inside.

At dinner time, I drool over the wide assortment of food laid out. I cram delicacy after delicacy into my mouth until I am stuffed to the rim. This whole things sucks, but I have to admit, the food is delectable.

By the time we settle down to watch the Reapings, I'm feeling pretty relaxed. It can't be all that bad, huh?

But by the time District One comes on, boasting their usually terrifying tributes, I'm starting to feel a little queasy. The female is a sweet looking young mother, and that just makes me sick.

District Two roles around and I'm holding my stomach in my throat. Both tributes are terrifying, tall and built. Their expressions are cruel and fierce, narrowed eyes that show no mercy. My stomach threatens to overflow and I leap out of my seat, drawing concerned glances in my direction. Ignoring their gazes, I rush to the bathroom, skidding on the polished floor. I keel over the toilet, heaving and panting, my breath rushing out in ragged gasps.

When I'm finished, I'm sprawled on the marble floor, my cheek pressed against the cool surface. I heard Titus walk by earlier, probably to check on me, but he disappeared before I caught a glance at him.

Now, as I lie on the shiny bathroom floor of the train, the truth finally hits me. A truth I should have realized long ago. That everyone else did, but not me. It hits me like a blow to my chest, knocking the breath out of me.

I'm going into the Hunger Games.

* * *

**Well.**

**Please don't hate me! **

**I'm so very sorry it's been so long, and I know I deserve whatever punishment you have planned for me, but before you do, at least consider the feelings of your tributes!**

**I really am sorry, and I promise I'll try to update sooner this time around. So please, will you still take time out of your busy schedules to leave a review for me?**

***Listens to the sound of crickets chirping***

**Umm... For your tributes then?**

**Okay, _now_ you'll review.**

**See you as soon as possible!**

** ~ Arielle**


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